Legacy Fate
by ValeBailey
Summary: This story details the transition of Bass from the classic series into the X series. It is fairly dark and deals with the inner-workings of robots and reploids. It also talks to the ideas of destiny and purpose; chance vs. fate, will vs. ability, etc...
1. Chapter 1

****This story details the transition of Bass from the classic series into the X series. It is fairly dark and deals with the inner-workings of robots and reploids. It also talks to the ideas of destiny and purpose; chance vs. fate, will vs. ability, etc...

I have a few theories regarding the ending of the classic series as well as some things in the X series, I allude to those things in my story but, for the most part, they don't take a central role. Feel free to extrapolate and interact with me on those things if you see them.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mega Man, Proto Man, Bass, Wily, or any of the other characters here that you have heard of before... Capcom does. I know it, you know it, I'm not stealing.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Super Fighting Robots<strong>

20XX

"What are you thinking?" Proto Man exclaimed as he lay helpless to stop Bass from taking pot-shots at the energy tanks closest to Mega Man, trying to catch his foe in the resulting explosions. "You're going to bring the whole building down on top of us!" Behind Proto Man's dark visor his eyes were wide with fear and disbelief; first Wily had put them all through the ringer yet again with eight new robot masters, and right when the evil doctor was ready to beg for mercy, Bass launched an all out assault on both Mega Man AND Wily's castle. Wily had scurried into yet ANOTHER secret room and the Blue Bomber was using the small amount of energy he had left to dodge Bass Buster shots and energy tank explosions. Bass would likely win, but kill himself and everyone stuck in the castle at the same time.

Proto Man had already sacrificed his body in an attempt to take down Wily, but it was Mega Man who had defeated him anyway. Proto cursed his rash behavior; had he simply trusted his younger brother in the first place, he would still be standing to shield Mega from Bass' onslaught.

Mega Man went into a slide just in time to avoid a high explosion that would have easily taken off his upper body. Two blasts of energy hit right beside him as he leapt for temporary cover that would soon be rubble. The robot master construction facility was too fragile for a warrior like Bass. Large metal capsules in which the robots were constructed and treated sat beneath large energy tanks used to power the robots and enormous computers set with the task of monitoring the systems of the entities within. The room had originally been extremely crowded with such capsules until Bass had begun his rampage. Now barely a quarter of the remaining cylinders stood erect and few that had fallen were more than crushed, flaming wreckage.

Round after round volleyed into the constructs around the factory, bringing twisted metal and chunks of concrete down all around. Proto pried his eyes away from the scampering Mega Man to glance at Bass. The dark robot clone of Mega Man was running almost as frantically as his prototype rival blasting wildly. A fire was in his eye so strong Proto Man thought it had to be a reflection of the flames in the room. But no, it was even brighter. It was as if Bass' eyes reflected something that wasn't in the room; or at the very least something Proto Man couldn't see.

The red- and gray-clad robot wished he could be in the fight once again as he shielded his eyes with his functioning arm in order to view the battle a little better. Bass had just finished off a few support beams and the computer terminals mounted to them to trap himself and the Blue Bomber in a narrow strip of safety in the middle of the blazing factory. There was little else Mega Man could do other than face Bass head on now.

Proto Man's eyes drifted back to Mega and to his amazement found that his brother was staring right back at him.

_Why is he looking at me? In all of this is he REALLY still worried about what will happen to me? Is he still trying to shield me? Shield…_

_My Shield!_

Taking the hint, Proto Man looked beside him to find his Proto Shield still just barely in reach. Without wasting time, he grabbed it, popping a circuit or two in the stretch and without the leverage of standing heaved it with all his might, hoping he could protect his younger brother still.

Mega Man launched himself from his final bit of cover in order to just barely grip the soaring Proto Shield with his fingertips. Without the pressure from the shots of the Bass Buster pounding into the oval shield, his fingers may not have been able to stop it from flying straight through the corridor and out past the impassible walls of fire. Steadying himself and Proto Man's shield against his arm and shoulder, the Blue Bomber began to dash toward Bass, charging his M-Buster with all that was left of his energy.

Bass' astonishment was apparent even to Proto Man nearly thirty meters away. As the pieces started to come together in Proto Man's mind, Bass' body language proved he was having similar revelations.

_It was all on purpose. Rock knew he only had one shot at taking Bass down and needed to ensure it hit. He made sure Bass destroyed all the cover around; he planned the strip between wreckage and even the use of my shield. Now there's nowhere for Bass to run… it's over._

The Blue Bomber charged within a meter of Bass and swung the Proto Shield outward, knocking his hapless adversary's arm cannon out of the way. Still in full sprint Mega Man thrust his now fully charged M-buster straight into Bass' exposed chest and let out the last of his stored power in a massive energy blast, consuming both fighters in blinding light…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – The End of the Beginning**

Proto Man had heard it said that the shock waves of an explosion could extinguish flames, but had never seen the phenomenon until the factory went dark as the curtain fell on the extraordinary battle. Proto Man's IR enhanced vision had already failed and was left waiting for his eyes to adjust to the now minimal light left in the dark, empty room. Everything was quiet.

The fog of darkness soon begot shapes veiled by settling dust. Mega Man was kneeling, breathing heavily; an indication of exhaustion programmed as mimicry of humans, robots only used breath for speaking. Bass lay on the ground some 10 meters away, motionless.

_We did it. What possessed Bass to do that? Has his rivalry with Rock really consumed him so fully that he would take use his own life as payment for victory? Well... Wily may have escaped, but at least it's over now._

On the opposite end of the room doors slid open as two humanoid shapes appeared silhouetted in the room beyond the door's light. Proto Man immediately recognized the stout Wily, but the second he couldn't discern any details from. He heard the doctor's distant laugh and imagined those eyebrows of his chuckling alongside.

_...So much for "over"... If that's another robot, we're in trouble. There's no one left standing. Rock can't possibly have the strength to take down even a met right now. I need to get up!_

Proto Man struggled in vain, knowing the lower half of his body was already fully inoperable.

_Damn!_

Wily was obviously monologuing… Proto could make out words here and there: "ultimate robot"… "new era"… "epidemic"… "worldwide empire"… nothing the cracked roboticist hadn't said hundreds of times before. These kinds of speeches from Wily really got on Proto Man's nerves. He half-expected Mega Man to stand up right then and finish off the so-called "ultimate robot" so they could all finally go home and forget this mess.

To his half-surprise, the Blue Bomber indeed climbed to his feet and stood valiantly before this new creation. Proto Man wondered where this strength came from; Mega Man was a compilation of gears and circuits just like himself. Where was his limit?

Before his amazement at his brother's valor had even sunk in, the green glow of a solid beam flashed diagonally across Mega Man's torso. A glint of red and yellow shown behind the beam as the silhouette of Mega Man separated into two pieces.

Proto Man froze. His mind couldn't process what had just happened. No matter what he could clearly see, all the context of what he had seen vanished. There was nothing. No thought, no feeling, just the visual of two halves of a robot collapsing to the floor. The green beam steadied in a low, unready position; Wily's manic laugh echoing in the empty room.

Four bright balls of energy zipped across the room, the third of which sending the solid energy beam flying. Darkness filled the room again. Proto Man turned to see the almost-forgotten Bass standing again, gripping his chest but with Bass Buster raised. Proto Man's tactical programming made a quick assessment of Bass' probable status: those shots he fired would be among his last.

A blazing red-white fireball answered the already defeated robot's paltry attempts at confronting the new creation. Bass lost his left shoulder and arm in the blast and once again fell limp to the floor.

With all the fluctuations in energy now dispersed, and the silhouettes making their way back to the room from which they had come, there was little else for the robot's analytical subroutines to latch on to. He looked back at the halved robot: zero energy readings; he looked again to the one armed robot: zero energy readings. The room was 29.7 degrees Celsius. The still settling dust was composed of primarily sediment rock and the faint glow of light in the room measured 17 lumens…

All at once it hit the prototype robot.

His mind still wasn't putting words to what he had seen, but a dauntless rage swept over all other personality subroutines. It was like being possessed by vengeance itself. Proto Man felt his unstable nuclear core back-feeding long since severed circuits causing multiple, painful shorts in his wiring to spark all over his body; but it was moving again, and standing up.

Proto Man belted an almost feral sounding howl. Unable to walk or even raise his arm above waist height, he pushed as much energy into every inch of his body possible in an attempt to bludgeon his malfunctioning limbs into submitting to his command.

"This isn't over Wily!" Proto yelled after the evil doctor and his creation.

Wily stopped and turned back, gesturing his ultimate robot forward to end the enraged Proto Man. The creation let loose another fireball of equal intensity to the one that had dismembered Bass. The nuclear-powered robot took a direct hit, but the outward surging energy from his body dissipated the bulk of the blast and his rage wouldn't be silenced. The final robot creation of Wily began a dash toward the first robot creation of Wily to crush him physically; he would close the distance in a matter of seconds.

"For over a decade," Proto Man whispered, "you have terrorized the people of earth. For over a decade you have been thwarted by Mega Man time and time again. For over a decade you have escaped justice. And for over a decade I have held in the malfunctioning nuclear core you gave me. It all ends now."

The energy forced outward now reversed and left his extremities, drawing everything into the main reactor in Proto Man's chest. As his body began to fall limp again his core temperature went critical mass. All the pain, all the suffering, all the regret; along with all the joy, all the duty, and all the peace Blues had found along the way left him in what felt like exhaling a long-held breath. White light filled his vision and before making it halfway to the floor an agonizing flash of pressure erupted from within, filling everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Waiting Games**

21XX

It was always risky making weapons deals within Abel City limits. Surveillance mechanaloids roamed the streets at night, as did several police cars and even the occasional maverick hunter, any of which would bring all of the others with them if they caught glimpse of a weapons deal this large in progress.

Vale Bailey stood outside his black sedan. He checked his watch then ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper colored hair. The middle-aged man wore simple jeans and a gray shirt under a black blazer and held a suitcase in his hand filled with credit chips, at least a quarter of which hacked with increased value. Laundering the hacked chips was simple enough and it was a generally accepted practice to accept hacked credits within a certain percentage of a deal.

Vale could have opted for a different arms dealer, but Ulysses Targue was the best; having the largest and most diverse inventory of every kind of energy weapon, modified or not. Bailey's security contract also had special needs for illegal robotics that most arms dealers couldn't provide and Targue was a robotics genius, with several custom heavy mechanaloids in his inventory equipped with weaponry deemed too hazardous and likely to cause collateral to be legalized outside of military use.

It was Targue's courier that had insisted on meeting inside city limits. Apparently he didn't like to travel farther than absolutely necessary for deals… an absurd practice, yet the highly profitable dealer had absolute faith in this new delivery boy of his.

"Three class-7 mechanaloid sentries within two kilometers," an even-toned voice materialized behind Bailey, startling him. The corner of Vale's eye caught the white wisp of a long scarf. Turning, he saw the metal-mesh fabric wrapped around a face with a stark white helmet and blue forehead crystal, leaving only the eyes visible. It was his spotter. Sheen was a mercenary contracted by Bailey's client, something of a free-will maverick, to Vale's understanding. It was a wonder Sheen could sneak up on anybody considering his appearance: his white forearm and boot cases were in stark contrast to the black body suit worn underneath, and a metal-mesh wrap concealed his upper torso and shoulders. A blue, circular clasp in the center of his chest held the wrap tight. But the least subtle thing about him was that he carried a large powered ax over his back with chains connecting it to his wrists. Both the clink of the chains and the hum of the powered ax ought to be dead giveaways, but no matter how many times he'd been interrupted by the white reploid, neither was noticed before intended.

"Insectoid form factor…" Sheen continued after Vale had starred blankly for a moment, "northeast, west, and south. They have wide viewing ranges, but their travel patterns don't suggest any will be scanning this street for another two hours."

"Well let's hope our salesman is as aware of his surroundings as _you_ are," Vale said wryly. The spotter didn't answer. "I hate dealing inside the city. Too many communications towers… one slip and it's all over." Vale turned and pointed to the nearest tower, probably no more than two hundred meters away. Bailey was cautious by nature and had taken special note of the tower and had parked his car in the most probable RF dead-zone. Humans didn't live long in this business without being meticulously cautious and the fact that Targue's courier was obviously not thinking about such things put Vale on edge.

"I will handle the tower…" Sheens voice seemed to evaporate behind Bailey. Even without turning, the human knew his spotter was gone. Maybe if he had the heightened senses of a reploid he might be able to notice the metal ninja before being startled.

The security contractor pulled a small data pad from his blazer pocket and pulled up the weapons invoice and floor plans for the facility. Blue grid lines expanded upward from the pad to create a hologram of the building. He had checked his defense schematics countless times over the last three weeks since obtaining the contract, but the client had given so little detail on defensive zoning priority that Bailey was left planning a large number wide-scanning auto turrets and highly-mobile attack mechanaloids to compliment the facility's security officers, which was making it difficult to come in under budget considering weapons needed to be upgraded for both officers and mechanaloids. Vale had even managed to hack some credits in order to afford a few heavy guardian-class mechanaloids for areas he guessed might need extra security. He had been doing this for almost three decades and had developed a knack for finding critical defensive positions.

Vale was brought out of his reverie by the distinct, rhythmic, hydraulic sound of reploid footsteps behind him. Startled again, he turned to face the newcomer while discreetly finding the handheld blaster his blazer was conveniently just long enough to cover.

_These damn toasters have got to stop sneaking up on me!_ The business-like contractor rarely used derogatory slang, even in his thoughts, but he was beginning to get a little jittery with this whole deal.

The newcomer was difficult to see; his gray under-armor and smooth black plating were hard to differentiate from the dark, dreary, concrete alley. Even the reploid's painted eyes seemed dark as a void; lifeless. The only conspicuous aspects on the reploid were the thin, orange ridges that ran along his helmet in a "V" formation, along with a few other orange accenting features.

_Where is the equipment? He can't possibly carry it all on his person._

"Can you tell me where to find Sniper Joe's?" Bailey asked the prepared identifier question and awaited the newcomer's response.

The dark reploid paused only momentarily before simply responding, "This way," turning on his heels and heading back the way he had come.

_That's not the correct answer. He was supposed to say, "Two blocks east, three blocks south." Then I say, "I thought it was west."_

The diner was actually five blocks north.

"Can you tell me where to find Sniper Joe's?" Vale repeated, raising his voice slightly and taking a step forward. He slipped his finger into the trigger of his holstered blaster pistol.

"The weapons are this way."

There was little question left in Vale's mind at this point. The cautious contractor would have preferred to go through the handshaking process as planned, but the newcomer had already outed himself entirely or else he was lying. Some Maverick Hunters had a reputation for being blasé during undercover work, but that seemed extremely unlikely due to the lack of any real maverick involvement in the contract.

Reluctantly, Vale began to follow the already almost out-of-sight courier.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - Autonomous**

Five minutes after the alert was made by the surveillance drone, Lieutenant Davis and his men were already at the abandoned vehicle, one of their better times. The beetle-like mechanaloid that had initiated the call hovered nearby at head-level and the oily fumes it gave off gave Davis a headache. The vodka he had been drinking at his desk before the alert probably hadn't helped either.

"What's the story?" the Lieutenant said to the reploid operator who was busy analyzing and interpreting the data collected by the mechanaloid. Most reploids that go into law enforcement end up with the Maverick Hunters or similar reploid-run and -organized agencies. This was one of the few who opted to work for humans directly in the Abel City Police Department. Despite this fact, Davis hadn't bothered to remember her name.

"There are multiple high-energy signatures inside the trunk," the airy-voiced female replied, sounding **almost** human, "And there is some sort of radiation leak inside as well, but nothing harmful."

…_Nothing harmful for a tin can, maybe._

"Has the bomb squad been alerted?"

With the rise in maverick activity over the last couple years, so had the use of underhanded and exceptionally malicious tactics, such as car bombs. This wasn't a heavily populated area, but more pointless traps had been set in the past.

"Yes, sir. They ought to be here momentarily."

As if on cue, the armored vehicle with the bomb squad glided up to the abandoned car and settled down with a loud hiss that sent Davis' headache and slight vertigo to another level.

Placing two fingers on his right temple and rubbing it gently, the slightly inebriated officer tuned away from the operator filling in the bomb squad leader on the situation. Davis made his way back to his car and out of the intense illumination that glared directly onto the scene. His eyes adjusted slowly as he took another sip of coffee to soothe his headache.

_The new norm is constant panic; constant fear, _Davis started an internal monologue he had practiced in his mind countless times over the last few months. _The day the first organized Maverick attack started, this world was changed forever. The streets became warzones and the alleys became graveyards. Political offices are built on heaps of scrap metal. There hasn't been a single record in history over the last decade that wasn't driven by reploids and mavericks._

"Man's reach exceeds his grasp," quietly escaped his lips.

_Reploids… mavericks… "free-thinking" robots have replaced humanity. When they were predictable and controlled, man could choose his own destiny… law was effective and enforceable. The minute they could decide for themselves what was right, humanity became obsolete. We still raise the flag of control, of masters, of capable beings… but the banner is only held as high as the machines that carry it decide. Humanities shoulders aren't broad enough to carry the weight anymore. How long before they realize they are the only ones holding us up? Before they realize they handle our destiny?_

Checking his rear-view, Davis saw the bomb squad unloading and preparing their equipment. None of the men wore heavy bomb-proof padding, but rather they prepped the armored mechanloids they had brought with them. A few stayed in the van where the computers logged into the machanloid's monitoring software so they could see what it would see and feed instructions remotely. They were "safe."

_We have gone from autonomous beings to inscrutable masters; from inscrutable masters to dependent supervisors; from dependent supervisors to self-deceived beggars… We will be their pets soon enough._

Movement in the darkness ahead pulled Lieutenant Davis' eyes down from the mirror he had been gazing into. Someone else was coming… on foot. Davis stepped out of his vehicle and squinted into the darkness to see a bit better. There was something about the shape of the figure coming forward that was off-putting. The forearms were larger than the biceps, the leg from the knee down was significantly wider than above, and he was wearing… a helmet.

_He's armored!_

One of the armored arms raised and faced forward, a faint purple glow becoming visible as the end of the appendage swung to face the scene ahead.

"Look out!" Davis yelled in warning.

As the first shuffling of the officers nearby started to turn to heed the warning, a brilliant barrage erupted over the entire site. The first item struck was the surveillance drone that had placed the original call, obliterated with deadly accuracy at its centrally-located core.

Almost instantaneously following, several blasts hit the armored mechanaloid would have normally weathered the onslaught well, but one lucky shot found the primary data trunk inside the un-plated back-side of the "neck" of the body, severing the larger, more useful portion of the machine from its main CPU.

The first officers to draw their weapons were the first cut down by the approaching attacker. One shot each was all it took. Davis gave up the idea of counter-attacking at this point and decided getting to the shelter of the armored vehicle of the bomb squad and calling for backup was his top priority.

The dark figure approaching was still walking leisurely as his arm cannon let out wave after wave of relentless fire.

After a half-dozen had taken cover inside the armored truck, a steady stream of blasts pelted the vehicle, pushing it back slowly but unable to pierce its inches-thick durasteel plating.

The lieutenant jumped behind his own vehicle as the opportunity to get into the only safe place on the site had ended. His heart was pounding. The sweat dripping off his forehead stunk of alcohol. He tried to gather his thoughts but they fled his mind before he could grasp them long enough to signal his body to move more than an inch at a time. He slowly peered around his car, crouching low to the ground, to check the progress of the attacker.

He was still walking. But he was close enough now that the light from the fires of the vehicles and wreckage he had created were illuminating his face: cold, expressionless.

_Heartless toaster._

The armored truck continued to slide backwards until by chance it rocked just far enough that the wide rim of the vehicle caught the pavement, causing the whole thing to topple over. Only one shot hit the truck after that, directly to its fuel cell, causing the occupied vehicle to erupt in a blazing inferno. Those who had been killed instantly by the explosion were the lucky ones. Davis could hear the others. They were trapped inside and burning alive.

The attacker's attention then turned to the remaining personnel scampering about. The lieutenant took the only option the thought he had left, to get his vehicle moving while the toaster's attention was on the others, turning the corner maybe a dozen meters away and making his escape.

He slid around to the passenger side of his car which was out of the line-of-sight and quickly opened his door, climbing in. As he clumsily pulled himself over the center console and into the driver seat, the reploid operator slammed into the rear driver side door, begging to be let in. Davis ignored her and turned the key. She moved to the driver window but a flash of light later her face contorted in pain and Davis could see a newly blown hole in the woman's body. Wiring and gears exposed, she fell to the ground, twitching as the last of her power petered out with nowhere to go.

_Shit!_

Lieutenant Davis looked ahead just in time to see the energy blast directed toward his car cross its final meters to the front end and into the running engine. Shards of metal and plasteel lanced his legs as the weight of the explosion crushed the bones. A wall of flame burst forth simultaneously. The pain was agonizing. He couldn't move. His eyes wouldn't close, his lids were charred open and his eyes felt as though they were trying to escape, but all he could see were splashes of color as the signal to his brain roasted. The burning flesh he smelled was his own. The tormenting heat gave way to a creeping coldness. He welcomed death as it took him from that place.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - Disconnect**

_West, West, South, West…_ Vale replayed the directions back to his vehicle in his mind again as he followed behind the dark reploid. Watching the courier take another turn, he updated the directions again… _South, West, West, South, West…_

Before reaching the next corner, bright flashes and sounds of explosions erupted from where the courier had just gone. Vale instinctively dove for cover, even though all the commotion was ahead and out of site. He pressed himself against the cold brick building and inched to the edge to see what was going on. He could faintly hear the yells of several men; unable to make out what they were saying.

The situation seemed obvious: the delivery boy left the weapons unattended and the police, or even worse, the Maverick Hunters, had laid a trap. The contractor vowed never to do another deal inside the city; if ever he got out of this, that is. Fighting the urge to run back to his car that instant, he repeated the directions in his head just in case he had to make a break for it.

_South, West, West, South, West._

By the time he had finished his repetition, Vale noticed that the noise and flashes had stopped; and only an eerie, faint, yellow glow came from the alleyway ahead. After a brief moment of listening for another wave of action, he finally poked his head around the corner…

It was terrible.

In the distance ahead there were several burning vehicles and bodies strewn about the ground, some still twitching as the last dregs of life left them. They weren't reploid either… they were **human**. The glow of the firelight illuminated large splashes of blood on walls that were not completely charred. In the middle of it all was a single, unscathed, black sedan, similar to his own; and only a short distance off, the courier was still walking at the same pace he had turned the corner, approaching the vehicle, apparently un-phased by the catastrophe he had inflicted and lives he had ended. Vale suddenly got the sense that this reploid could erase any trace of his existence if he so desired and shuddered, more afraid to turn the corner now than when the massacre was underway.

The courier reached the vehicle and opened the trunk; there in the back were the weapons, as well as a few larger cases that he presumed held mechanaloid pieces. Involuntarily, Bailey turned the corner and began walking quickly toward the equipment.

The defense contractor rarely supervised his installations directly and didn't have much a stomach for the devastation they sometimes caused. He kept his eyes directly on the trunk of the car, forcing out of his mind the flickering lights and lifeless bodies the flames illuminated. But one thing he couldn't escape was the semi-sweet smell of burning human flesh. Vale began breathing through his mouth and taking shorter breaths, but he felt infected by the atmosphere even more when he did.

"Where are the heavy mechanaloids?" Vale said, trying to get back to business.

"I don't deliver those," the courier answered unmoving.

"I paid for them," Vale insisted, "I put three guardian-class on the invoice, where are they?"

"Take it up with Targue."

_I am __**not**__going through __**this**__ again! I had better get those guardians._

Before he could speak his objections, the reploid tossed him a set of keys and motioned for the suitcase Vale had entirely forgotten he was holding. Bailey handed it over. Without checking its contents, the reploid began to walk off in another, seemingly random direction. Vale almost asked the courier if he was even going to look to make sure it was credits inside the suitcase, but quickly realized how pointless a question that would be.

Giving up, the contractor assumed he would be inheriting the vehicle in front of him. It was unmarked, but he would have to get it scanned back at the shop to make sure it didn't have any traceable fusion signatures aboard either.

As he climbed inside, he looked to find that the dark reploid was already out of sight. The tension he had been building up left with the presence of the reploid, but the relief was only momentary. Vale had noticed something else. This revelation didn't make him sick, but rather sunk him deep into his own thoughts as he started the vehicle and made his way back to rendezvous with Sheen to bring both cars back to the shop.

_There wasn't a single stray shot. Not a break or a gash or even a scratch in any of the surrounding buildings… no energy burns on the ground… nothing. Every shot was dead-on. _

Deadly efficient.

_There also wasn't any sign of backup, or escape… no one got in or out. Did he take out their communication equipment first? How could they not have gotten a signal out? Maybe Sheen got the communications tower down. But this should still be on the fringe of another tower, I'm sure; and that's to say nothing of short-wave radio, either… They were never even given the chance to call for help._

_How did the police even find out about this in the first place? The surveillance mechanaloids should still be a long way off._

A chill ran down the contractors back as the next set of revelations sank in:

_The mechanaloids were much closer than I thought. Did he know his car was going to be found? What would have happened if he __**hadn't**__ parked and walked to me? We would have been discovered and the Hunters __**would**__ have been alerted._

Abandoned vehicles don't call for the same personnel as weapons deals involving reploids.

_Did he know?_

Somehow the well-executed, perfectly-fitting plan didn't seem consistent with the apathetic, unassuming reploid he had just followed for 5 blocks. Bailey tried to dismiss it all as coincidence, or perhaps a plan of Targue's, but none of it sat well in his stomach.

He couldn't allow himself get so emotionally wrapped up in his business. From there he continued on in silence, trying to forget everything he had seen. The deal was done.


End file.
